True Love
by DisasterInDaisyDukes
Summary: Esme & Carlisle - I've always loved their story, so here is my take on events. Sorry if some stuff is historically inaccurate - I'm not a historian! Read & review please!
1. Chapter 1

My other story is on hiatus due to writers block, but I've had this written for ages. Since it's my exams updates may be few and far between. Hope you like it. Reviews would be lovely.

xxxx

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"Esme!"

"Esme!" I could hear my father calling me "Esme! Where the devil are you? You'd better not be climbing trees again," he warned. My family knew about my tree climbing and did not approve – a sixteen year old from a family like mine should not be climbing trees – she should be sitting at home, sewing and looking pretty. But I liked climbing trees – the rush of fear as I got higher and higher, away from the girl my parents wanted, to be the real Esme, who wanted to teach, and go across the Great American Desert – to see the city built on the Salt Lakes by the Mormons, to see the miners and to go to reservations and see the Indians. But, sadly, that would never happen to me, I had to come down from my tree, and back to the real world.

"Coming!" I called, beginning to climb down, making sure I gathered the skirts of my dress around me. But I misjudged where the knot was on the tree and my foot slipped, and my hand missed the branch I was meant to catch. For one long second I was falling and then I hit the ground, leg first.

The pain made me scream out loud, which eventually quieted to a whimper, interspersed with chocking sobs as the realisation of what I had done, and what my family would do, slowly dawned on me.

My father's voice came again, closer this time – it almost sounded worried "Esme? Esme?"

"I'm here," I called back weakly. I heard rustling in the grass behind me and I heard his voice above me.

"Stupid girl! What have you done to yourself?" So maybe he wasn't worried after all.

"I fell," I whimpered "It hurts…..I think I broke my leg,"

"Well that was your own damn fault. Can you walk on it?"

"No, not really. It hurts too much,"

"Fine then," To my shock he knelt down and scooped me up. He hadn't held me this close in years. I closed my eyes and bit my lip to keep from crying out every time he jolted my leg as he walked.

I knew when we entered town, I could here people talking to my father "John, what's happened to Esme?" and "John, is Esme alright?" I also knew when we were getting close to the doctor's surgery – you had to go down some steps to get there and each step down just jolted my leg more. The tears I had been holding back for so long we threatening to escape.

"Damn it" My father growled.

"What is it, John?" My eyes flicked open and I peered over my father's shoulder. A crowd had gathered behind us, including Charles Evenson, a favourite among the parents of teenage girls in the town. It was he who had spoken.

"Dr. Armstrong's out of town. Damn it – what am I supposed to do with her now?" He shook me a little bit when he said _her_, causing a whimper to escape my lips.

"She's really white, John, maybe you should take her into Columbus," Charles Evenson suggested.

"But that's miles! I'm dining with the governor tonight!"

"I'll drive you," **A/N: I'm assuming the rich had cars by 1911 – it's when the 1****st**** Monte Carlo car races were held **Charles Evenson was the richest man in town and was the only one with an automobile. I had secretly longed for a ride in it, with its smart leather seats and shiny black paint.

The drive itself was almost relaxing; apart from the sharp pain in my leg, but it was night before we reached Columbus. My father kept a steady string of complaints about me almost all the way until Mr. Evenson distracted him with a question about his horses. From my position on the backseat, my leg hidden under a rug, I studied Mr. Evenson's face. My parents seemed keen for me to marry him – he was the richest man in town – but he didn't look like someone I could fall in love with – his nose was too big and his skin was sort of floppy. His hair was a nice colour though, but his hairline was receding. I wanted to fall in love – all of my friends had, and they were already married, even Mary, who had got pregnant _before_ she got married. I wasn't allowed to see her anymore – Father thought she was a bad influence on me. I wanted to fall in love, in a giddy way, like when Jessie talked about her husband "Every time I see him, it just feels right," she had sighed. I wanted to fall in love like in novels – like Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester and Romeo and Juliet – but that would never happen to a small town girl like me.

The hospital was smaller than I had imagined, but clean and white. I was laid on a bed by a nice nurse, who lifted my dress along the broken leg side.

"This looks nasty, sweetie. Dr. Cullen is going to have to look at it,"

"Dr. Cullen? I can't be seen by a man!" I tried to pull down my dress, but she caught my hands and pulled them away from the plaid cotton. I didn't want to be seen by a man – I hadn't even kissed anyone yet! I was not ready for some doctor to see what only my husband was supposed to see.

"He's the best – you'd better have him while he's here – he leaves next month," I heard the ward door open and a man's voice, with an English accent – the voice Mr. Rochester had in my head – spoke "What have we got here then nurse?" She giggled. The reaction seemed a bit silly to me – I was in pain and she was laughing at some inside joke she shared with the doctor.

"Sixteen-year-old Esme Platt **A/N: Sorry! Me again! Is Platt Esme's surname? I can't remember? It seems to fit – I might have borrowed it from someone else's fan fiction – apologies of that's the case**, fell out of a tree and broke her leg,"

"Well, let's take a look at her then," And he stepped around the curtain that was separating me from the rest of the ward. All the time he had been talking to the nurse, I had been fighting against her hands on my dress, but when I saw him, I stopped fighting.

I'd thought men were handsome before, but Dr. Cullen was _beautiful. _He had white, almost alabaster, skin, blonde hair and golden eyes. I think my mouth must have fallen open in a very unladylike way, but I couldn't help it. I'd fallen in _love_. I'd read about love, but I couldn't believe how it felt. I felt myself blush.

"Hello, Esme," He smiled at me, revealing a set off perfect white teeth. It was only then that I realised he'd used my first name "My name is Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Call me Carlisle," My mouth was still hanging open. I snapped it shut. "Let's see what we've got here" With _cold_ hands he prised my fingers slowly off my dress and gently felt down my leg "Tell me where it hurts," When he reached the point just below my knee, I wailed and started to cry.

"Well then, it's definitely broken. Just stay here and I'll get some bandages and pain medicine for you," He smiled at me "Don't worry, Esme. It's a minor break, nothing that I can't fix. Nurse, while I deal with Miss Platt, will you inform her father he will need to find somewhere to stay for the night,"


	2. Chapter 2

Me again! With one story I have writer's block whereas with this story I can't get the words out fast enough. I realise this is slightly different to the events laid out for us by Stephenie Meyer but it suits my purpose so I am taking creative licence. Reviews would be lovely.

Also, Stephenie Meyer owns all and only TEN (that's right ten - count 'em) until we can see the first chapter of Breaking Dawn! Yay!

Review please!

xxxx

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"Hello, Esme." Dr. Cullen came around my curtain carrying a tray of food in one hand and a book in another. I couldn't get over how graceful he was. If I had tried to carry the tray _and_ the book, I would have dropped them both. As usual, the sight of him made the breath catch in my throat. He was _beautiful_.

"How's my favourite patient today? Hungry?" he asked, placing the tray of food on my lap and settling himself on the edge of my mattress, without jostling my leg at all, as he had done every evening for the last two weeks, when he got off his shift. I just nodded. As always, at the beginning of the evening, I was tongue-tied around him.

"Here you are," he said, holding out a book to me "You told me it was good, so I read it last night," I took it from him. It was Jane Eyre. We'd been talking about what I liked to do – when I wasn't falling from trees – and I told him about reading, and how much I liked the book. He grinned "You said you lost yours, so I bought you another copy,"

"You read it last night? You can't have had any sleep at all! It took about a week to read it!"

He laughed as though I said something funny, which I hadn't. I frowned. "I don't need much sleep," he said and gazed off at the wall beside my bed. I took his moment of silence to shovel some of food into my mouth. As I chewed I contemplated over what to say. The relationship I had with Dr. Cullen was unorthodox and we both knew that – but as long as my father didn't know, it was alright.

He had told me to call him Carlisle, his first name, because apparently patients were more relaxed in a more informal environment. I knew lots about him – and he knew lots about me too. He was 35, although he didn't look much older than 20, he wasn't married and he had come over to America from England, where he'd lived in London, a long time ago.

He knew about me, my family and siblings, even Katharine. I told him things I hadn't told about anyone else – about why I liked to climb trees, how I wanted to travel and why I always did what I was told.

All of a sudden, he jumped unexpectedly to his feet with a strange look on his face "Your father's coming," he said

"He is?" I strained my ears to hear the footsteps on the polished floor, but I couldn't hear anything.

"Yes, I can hear him coming," It was silent for a few moments until I heard the very faint, but very familiar steps in the corridor outside. As they got louder, Carlisle drew the curtain back to the wall and turned away from me, picking up the folder containing his notes on my progress.

The door to the ward opened and my father walked in, followed by Charles Evenson, which surprised me more than a little bit. But then I remember my father wouldn't have got here with Mr. Evenson's car.

"How's Esme today?" As always, whenever he was in the company of strangers, he acted as though I was his favourite child

"She's doing well," Carlisle replied, running a hand through his blonde hair that seemed even brighter when he stood next to Mr. Evenson, whose black hair was thinning and turning grey.

"Ready to go home?"

"Most certainly – as long as she rests up until her leg is completely healed," This made me sad – I didn't want to go home. It wasn't that I didn't like my house – I didn't mind helping out with the cooking and cleaning – but if I was at home, then I wouldn't see Carlisle anymore. While I'd been thinking about this, the conversation had moved on.

"So when should I bring her back?" My father was asking

"In about six week's time – ask for Dr. Eastgrave," Carlisle replied. Dr. Eastgrave? I didn't like him – he'd done a routine ward inspection while Carlisle was treating me once and he'd smelt all funny and he had had food in his beard.

"Dr. Eastgrave?" I heard myself saying "Can't you see me?"

"Esme!" My father scolded, his façade dropping for a second "Don't be so rude!"

"Oh no, don't worry about it, Mr. Platt. Esme's allowed to be curious. This is actually my last fortnight at the hospital – before I move to pastures new – my last day is next Friday, so Dr. Eastgrave will be taking over all my patients until my replacement arrives,"

"Where are you going to?"

"Back to England, maybe visit my family," Carlisle chewed on the corner of his lip, before walking down the ward to call for the nurse to prepare me to leave. I was distracted by the nurse pulling the curtain around my bed so I didn't notice Carlisle leave.

I sulked in the car on the way home – he didn't say goodbye? How hard would it have been to say "Goodbye, Esme – have a nice life?"

"Happy Birthday, Esme!" My family cried. We sat in the parlour, my brothers on the floor, Charles, with his arm wrapped possessively around my waist sat with me on the loveseat and my parents sat on the sofa opposite. I found myself looking at my wedding ring again. It still felt odd, even after four months. But not odd in a good way – odd in a way that made me feel sick to my stomach. Charles looked down, saw me looking at the ring and smiled at me.

Still nothing. Whenever Carlisle smiled at me, my stomach had done little hand springs and the breath I was taking caught in my throat. When Charles smiled at me, nothing happened. I talked to my mother and she had said that "Love will grow in time," I didn't think it would, but then she didn't know what I did. I could never love Charles. I couldn't love him because he hurt me. As my brother held out a present and I reached for it, I could feel the fabric of my dress rub against the tender skin of my stomach and back where my bruises were. I winced.

"What's wrong, Esme?" I hadn't realised my mother had been watching me.

"Just stomach ache," I lied. I couldn't hurt her with the truth. It would break her heart. She just raised her eyebrows at me – she knew when I was lying.

She cornered me in the kitchen after dinner, as I stared out of window, looking into the fields. If I strained my eyes hard, I could see the tree I fell from.

"So – stomach ache, sweetheart?" I turned – she'd made me jump. I hadn't realised that my arm had subconsciously crept across my stomach, as though that would hide the bruises "Or a baby maybe?" I gasped. Although Charles and I had done _it_, I hadn't enjoyed it. I didn't want to bring a child into that home.

My parents had forced me into my marriage – it wasn't unheard of in this town. Charles had prospects, he was rich _and_ he drove a car. If I had kept my mouth shut and not told my parents I wanted to go West and teach the children in somewhere like California or Utah, and just run away, maybe I would be fine. I could have fallen in love, and married someone who loved me and had happy children in a safe home.

Instead I was sitting in the kitchen of my childhood home, trying to decide whether I was pregnant or not.

"Esme!" My mother's sharp tone broke through my thoughts "So? Are you pregnant?" I really didn't want to have this conversation, but since Charles had forbidden me from seeing any of my friends, having branded them "immature", who else could I turn to?

I sighed "I miss my period this month, and last month, and I've put on weight,"

"That's perfect! Esme! You're going to seal this marriage and soon we'll be part of the greatest alliance this town has ever seen!" I sighed again – I knew my father's plan. Marry his eldest child off to the richest man in town; have me produce a child, thus securing the legacy of the Platts and Evensons and the future of his sons.

Two weeks later, Charles was drafted. I was relieved when he left. I couldn't imagine bringing my child into this world while I lived under his roof. I went to the pawn shop and sold all my jewellery, except for my wedding ring, packed a bag, got on the bus to Columbus and didn't look back.

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Ok - so that was Chapter 2. There may be the beginning of another story from Bella's POV, set during New Moon, coming up soon, because I already have that written.

Review! Go on! Just click that little button! Even if you just write one (nice) word, I will love it.

xxx


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about the update delay folks, I've been revising like a good girl ;)

It's a bit shorter than usual - sorry! - but I don't have much time before I have to start revising again.

Anyway, reviews would be lovely, as usual.

xxxx

P.S. Did anyone see the first part of Breaking Dawn chapter 1 on Entertainment Weekly's website? OMG! hyperventilates Anyway, review!

It took me four days to reach Milwaukee. My second cousin, Samantha, lived there with her husband, Andrew. From the evening I arrived, I could tell he didn't like me. Samantha, on the other hand, couldn't have been more welcoming, in spite of having no warning of my arrival.

Before she had got married, she had lived near me, in Columbus, and she had been my best friend, even though she was about five years older than me. I still felt like a little girl next to her. As she sat me down in her kitchen, force feeding me cake (I didn't object – I hadn't eaten all day), it was as though nothing has changed.

Her house was beautiful, they way I wished mine had been. It was small, but airy, and the wooden cupboards were painted an eggshell blue and cups hung from hooks on the big mahogany dresser, which sat next to the stove. A huge copper sink sat beneath a big window which was dressed with lace curtains and looked out on to the overgrown garden. In the sink was a wicker basket, and in the basket, was a beautiful baby girl, fast asleep under a pink knitted blanket.

"How old is she?" I asked

"Six months," Sam replied. She came and stood next to me.

"Isn't she beautiful? I was so pleased she was a girl – I don't think I could have faced another boy." She laughed – she had three sons, all under five and they ran rings around her, making messes but I could tell that she loved them very much.

After I had bathed and eaten more food, Sam tucked me up in bed, making me feel like a child again.

"So, Esme. Do you want to tell me what you're doing here? I don't mind the visit, not at all" she said, as I opened my mouth to apologise for imposing on her "But, I want to know. C'mon Esme, you can tell me. We used to tell each other everything. I won't tell anyone. Promise" I considered her proposal, and her promise. Could I trust her, now? Would she even believe me? As I thought, Sam opened her mouth again.

"Look, I've had four kids, I can tell you're pregnant, so there's no point in hiding that from me," She perched herself on the end of the bed, and nudged me with her elbow as she did so. She didn't know it, but she had elbowed a particularly painful bruise on my ribs. I let out an involuntary gasp. "Don't look so surprised, I'm not stupid, but there's something you're not telling me. I know you, Esme, your lies might sound convincing to most people but I know your tricks, 'cos I taught you them, so don't try them on me."

Just like that, I really wanted to tell her everything. She knew me. Me, Esme, not Mrs Charles Evenson.

"I'll tell you," I told her, and she smiled at me. I pulled myself up against the many pillows she'd put on my bed, and as I did so, one shoulder of my nightdress caught underneath me. It sat there, twisted on my shoulder blade, so I grabbed it and pulled. As I did, I pulled it off my collar bone. I heard Samantha gasp, and I looked down. There, right were Sam could see it was a big bruise, purple at the edges, then pink, blue, green and yellow right in the centre. Sam frowned. I quickly pulled the fabric to cover it, forgetting about the knot behind my shoulder blade. Sam leant forward and gently pulled the collar back.

"He did it? Didn't he?" She placed the fabric back and scrutinised me. I nodded. By urge to talk had melted away. "It's not the only one, is it?" I shook my head, and as I did, I heard Andrew calling Sam.

"You should go," I told her, finding my voice at last.

"No," Sam said firmly "I'm staying with you," Andrew called her again.

"Go," I said, nudging her with my toe.

"Fine," she stood up and pointed at me "This isn't over though. I'll talk to you in the morning" I just nodded.

The next three months were spent in a state of bliss. Sam and I reconnected, and spent most of our time together, which annoyed Andrew to no end, but I barely saw him, because he was always working. I would sit in the kitchen and teach the boys their ABC, with baby Jemima on my lap, while Sam cooked.

One Saturday, the boys were down at the bottom of the garden, playing in the stream that ran down there, Sam had gone to the mail box and I was stirring the soup, with Jemima on my hip. She played with my hair, twisting it around her little fingers and giggled as she did so.

"Esme, sit down," I turned around – I hadn't heard Sam come in. I did as she said – she was ashen-faced, and her hands were shaking. I balanced Jemima on my lap; she rested her little hands on my bump.

"I've got a letter from your father, saying he'll be here to collect you, with your husband, in three days," Her face was devastated.

"But…..how…..how…how did he know I was here?"

"I think," Sam said, "That Andrew may have told them," Her face was filled with guilt. "I'm so, so, so sorry Esme, really I am," Panic raced through me, but I ignored it, I knew what I had to do.

"I'll pack my bag," I stood up, and handed Jemima to her mother. "I'll be gone in an hour,"

"Esme! You can't leave! We can work something out!"

"We can't, it's not fair for me to put you up against your husband," Ignoring her protests, I heaved myself up the stairs to my room, and packed my bag. Sam followed me, suggesting ridiculous plans, so that I could stay. I ignored her and packed my small suitcase – it didn't take long – I hadn't brought much with me and most of it didn't fit now.

I left the house on the verge of tears, but I fought them back and concentrated on making my escape. I would go north again, and claim to be one of the many war widows.

At this point, you click that little button below that says "Submit review" and write something!

Go on, you know you want to

xxx


	4. Chapter 4

Here we go! Another chapter. I'm almost done now - I almost feel sad - I've liked writing this story.

Once you've read this (and written a review) read my other story, for whose ending I am currently experiencing writers block, so it is on hiatus.

Anyway, read and review!

xxxx

In his crib, William gurgled, and then coughed, distracting me momentarily from the sun on the chalkboard

In his crib, William gurgled, and then coughed, distracting me momentarily from the sun on the chalkboard. I got Libby, one of my favourite students, to finish the sum while I picked Will up and placed him on my hip where a sling held him in place.

As usual, after class, Libby, her friends Joshua and Sophie and her younger brother Samuel, stayed behind after school to help me clear up the school house. Today they were trying to out do each for holding their breath for the longest time as the picked up the books from the wobbly desks.

"One minute and half," Libby announced proudly, grinning at me.

"So was not!" Argued Sam, who, although he would never admit it, would follow his sister to the ends of the Earth just to make sure he was still accepted in her little gang.

When I arrived in Ashland six months earlier, I got lucky. I could have been out on the streets with a two month old baby, but there was a position available as a school teacher. I had always wanted to teach. Before I married my husband, I broached the idea of my going west to California or to Dakota, to my parents but they shot me down, saying that teaching was not a respectable profession for a young woman.

However, I loved being a teacher; I loved watching my pupil's faces gaze up at me as I stood on my platform teaching them their numbers and the alphabet. There were a few rooms in the back of the school house where I lived, and it was already furnished, from the previous occupant, so all I had to do was buy myself some new clothes, all the things that William, my beautiful boy, needed and food.

When I arrived in Ashland, questions were raised about the paternity of William. I lied about my husband, saying he was dead, that he died during the war, and I was soon accepted into the community for there were many war widows here. Never before had I been glad of my wedding ring – not that I wore it – I kept it on a chain around my neck, like the other girls did.

Ashland was beautiful. It was small, with a main street and roads with houses branching out from there and there were long walks I could take, and although I would never admit it to anyone, trees to climb. My favourite walk went passed a high cliff, called "Lover's Leap", although no-one had ever leapt off there, as far as anyone could remember. There was a tall tree whose branches draped over the edge and I would sit on one of the branches that faced back towards the town and sketch, or read, or just watch William sleep, for the movement of my walking rocked him to sleep.

I wanted to write to Samantha and tell her all of this, but there was a risk that her husband would find out and that, once again, my husband and my father would come looking for me.

I spent a lot of my time thinking about Dr. Cullen, from all of those years ago. He was the only man who had ever been decent to me, treated me like a human being. I had had such a crush on him in the hospital – I would study my reflection in the mirror opposite my bed before he came to see me, making my hair lie right, the curls carefully arranged, and biting down on my lips to make them appear redder and more alluring.

"Miss Platt!" Libby's voice brought me back to the present "Could you time us? We need someone fair to see who can do it longer,"

"Do what longer?"

"Hold our breaths!" Samuel interrupted.

"Shut up, Sam! I was talking!" Libby hit him on the arm and Sam's bottom lip began to tremble

"Hey! Let's not have any of that Libby!" I scolded, but then smiled so she would know I wasn't being serious. "Go and play outside – I'll see you all tomorrow" The little group headed out of the door, waving as they went. Libby was their leader – at seventeen most people thought she was too old to be at school, that she should be working, that she shouldn't be causing trouble for me, but I didn't mind – I set her advanced work and she sat quietly working in the corner with Sophie and Josh.

Sophie was Libby's best friend – and her complete opposite. While Libby had jet black hair, Sophie was blonde and was short and round whereas Libby was slim and tall. Josh was Libby's other friend, the same age as her, and the only boy in town who was still in school at his age, and he was the only one taller than Libby. They would make a good couple, I had observed, with his bright eyes and her dark hair, and their great height. They were both taller than me.

Will coughed again, which worried me. The weather was cold and getting colder each day. I had taken him to the doctor, who told me that the cough was nothing to worry about and that I should keep him warm, which was difficult to do in the draughty school house. I wrapped him in shawls and blankets and put his crib by the fire, and dragged my mattress down from the bed so that I could lie there next to him.

I woke up the next morning to find that the fire had gone out. Will was sleeping in his basket, one hand curled around the top blanket, and blue shawl, that I had knitted for him. I re-lit the fire, set the kettle to boil on the hob, and peered out the blinds. To my surprise, a light dusting of snow lay on the ground, and the grey clouds in the sky threatened to snow again. I would have to light all three fire places in the school room today.

I went to rouse Will, so that I could bathe and change him, and get him ready, because he would usually go back to sleep once he was dressed – he was such a good baby. I nudged his little hand with my fingers to wake him up – his hand was _cold_. It shouldn't be like that. My breath became shorter, more ragged. I lifted his little body out of the crib – his whole body was cold and stiff. He was dead. I began to sob, and I collapsed onto the floor, holding Will to my chest. Libby found me there three hours later, tears still streaming down my cheeks. She took one look at me, and went to fetch her mother, who had lost six babies.

The funeral was a week later. I had stayed in my rooms the whole of the past week, not teaching, not seeing anyone, just staring at the room, and the things that remind me of my son. My cold, dead, beautiful baby boy. Never again could I love anything, anyone, as much as I had loved that child. It reminded me of a poem I had read to the class about a month ago, a sonnet by an English man (who reminded me of Dr. Cullen), called Ben Johnson, whose son died aged seven.

I would never find out what sort of man my son would become, never see his eyes stare at me, never see him smile, never hear him laugh. That boy was lying in his tiny coffin now, at the JRB Undertakers, on the main street.

My entire class was at the funeral, and so were most of their parents. I didn't go to the wake straight away; I went for a walk first, claiming I needed to clear my head.

I walked my favourite walk, remembering all the times I had come here with William, rocking him to sleep as I walked, holding him close to me, even though he was in a sling, feeling his baby warmth and smelling his baby smell.

I didn't think about it when I did it. I looked at the cliff, and the tree, its branches bare, where I had sat with my baby. I didn't think. I jumped.

There will be some other point of views coming in the last few chapters, which should be interesting.

And now, I'm here to remind yuo to once again hit that little purple button and write me a review. It can be one word, or one hundred words. Or even a little smiley face. Go on, you know you want to.

xxxx


	5. Chapter 5

I love you guys so much, I'm giving you another chapter, instead of doing Chemistry revision. So reviews would be lovely

xxxx

The pain was intense. It burned around by body, through my veins, in my mouth – it roared in my ears. I tried to open my eyes, to see what hell (because that was where I had to be) looked like.

I was disappointed I was in hell. I hadn't done anything too bad in life, besides disobeying my parents and letting my baby die. Maybe I did belong in hell after all. Occasionally, the pain would subside enough for me to make sounds – footfalls and whispering – and feel the weight of someone holding my hand.

After what felt like a lifetime - although I discovered later it was only three days – the pain was gone. It had stopped completely. I opened my eyes with ease. I was in a simple room, on a bed. The walls were painted white and there was one small window, covered by a curtain. I sat up slowly, and started. In a chair at the end of the bed sat a beautiful boy with bronze coloured hair and golden eyes. He couldn't have been older than seventeen. He frowned, just for a second, before standing up and leaving the room through a door that I hadn't noticed before.

I could hear everything that he was doing – he was pouring a liquid into something – it smelt delicious and then he was crossing the room. As I listened to him pouring, I suddenly realised I was thirsty – dying of thirst – dehydrated. And then I realised I could smell whatever he had been pouring. What kind of a hell was this?

The boy appeared in the doorway, holding a glass. His hand covered whatever was in it.

"Hullo," he said "My name is Edward Cullen. What's yours?" He smiled at me reassuringly. Cullen – like Carlisle? Maybe he was a relative? Maybe hell was conjuring up demons to drive me mad.

"You're not going mad" Edward said, his voice soft. How did he know what I was thinking? I definitely was in hell "But you seem thirsty. Would you like a drink?" When I didn't say anything, he added "You're not in hell – you're in Ashland"

This was all too much for me, and the drink really did smell good. I nodded, wondering why I couldn't talk, or maybe I was talking and all of this was flooding out of my mouth to this beautiful boy (would this have been what Will would have looked like if he had been able to grow up?) and I wasn't even aware of it. The boy passed the drink to me and I gulped it down. I didn't realise until I was looking at the bottom of the glass that I realised what I had been drinking – blood.

"W….W…Wha….What is this?" I found my voice at last. Edward opened his mouth to reply, when there was a crash from the other room. Edward disappeared, as though he had never been there, and I was left alone, holding a bloodstained glass. I felt very ill, although my thirst was satiated, at least a tiny bit, and suddenly I found myself wishing a doctor was here. Not just any doctor- _the_ doctor. Dr. Carlisle Cullen. And just like, that, he appeared in the doorway, in a grey suit, looking exactly the same as he had done when I was sixteen.

"Esme," he said, in his warm voice "Allow me to explain everything"

**Carlisle's POV**

When I arrived home from work, as I rode up the elevator, I could hear the strains of music. My super-sensitive vampire hearing could pick out sounds from far away. The music was playing from the gramophone Edward had bought the previous week and was playing a waltz.

When I opened the door, I found Edward and Esme dancing, or rather, trying to dance. Esme was leading; teaching to Edward to waltz. All the furniture had been pushed to the walls to make room for the two of them to dance. Edward's hand was resting on Esme's waist – I felt a surge of jealousy but I tried to keep it from my thoughts. The two of them were laughing – hard, and if they could have been crying with laughter they would have done.

"Carlisle!" Esme stepped away from Edward, who lifted the arm of the gramophone off the record and smile at me "How was your day? I've just been teaching Edward how to waltz"

Edward grinned "I'm not very good"

"Yet. In time, you will learn" Esme said and began to put the furniture back in place. Edward left a few hours later to hunt – after he and Esme had had a lengthy discussion about their favourite books. I watched silently, looking through my case notes. An activity that would have usually taken me fifteen minutes, I dragged out to make it last two hours.

I knew why. I was falling in love with Esme. She was no longer the teenage girl I had first met – she was a woman well versed in pain and suffering. She wanted to be happy – and I wanted her to be happy. And if she was happy with Edward, then I was happy for the both of them. She picked up a dog eared novel that was lying on the coffee table. I glanced at the title out of curiosity – _Jane Eyre_.

"Is that the copy I gave you?" I gestured to the book with my pen.

"Yes," she said, her eyes, now a mix of gold and red – they were almost a brown

"Where did you get it?" Her eyes now had a mischievous glint in them.

"I told Edward about it. He went back and got it for me," she smiled. I sighed. Edward was too irresistible for his own good. I had seen the way female's eyes followed him as we walked down the street.

About three weeks later, as I arrived home, there was no music playing, no laughter. All I could hear was someone sobbing. It sounded like Esme. I could hear Edward's soothing voice.

"It's alright, Esme. Don't worry. Esme, its fine"

I opened the door to see the apartment dark, with Edward and Esme we against the far wall. Esme had her knees pulled up to her chest, and he face buried in Edward's shoulder, who had his arm around her.

Esme looked up at me, her eyes a brilliant red.

"Oh, Carlisle," she breathed "I am so sorry" She hid her face in Edward's shoulder again.

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You know what to do

xxxx


	6. Chapter 6

This is the final chapter folks - let me know what you think - and have a look at my new story - Half Moon.

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All those humans. A whole family. I would never forgive myself. I hadn't meant for it to happen. It was an accident. For the first time since becoming a vampire, I wished I cry, just to release some of the pain. But no tears would come. I went through the motions of crying, hiding my head in Edward's shoulder, selfishly wishing Carlisle's arms were around me.

I couldn't imagine feeling more horrible and repulsive than I did at that moment. Edward attempted consoled me, but it didn't help – I could still smell their blood where it had splashed onto my clothes and where it had caught in the cracks in my lips.

When Carlisle got home, I was still in shock. His face was difficult to read – he seemed to be more surprised than disappointed. He shut the door, calmly took off his coat and came and sat next to me, leaning his back against the wall. He glanced at Edward, so quickly that I would have missed it if I was still human, who gently pulled my arms from his neck, and left the apartment.

"Esme," Carlisle murmured, "Don't let this eat you up inside – talk to me please," I was silent for a long time. I didn't know what to say. I'd said all that I could say, that I was sorry, but that didn't seem enough. Of course, he could never love me now. I

"Esme. Say something. Anything," Still, I didn't say anything. He waited a few more minutes.

"Alright then. I'll talk. You listen," He wrapped his arm around me, and pulled me close to him.

"I'm not cross with you, or disappointed in you. All newborn vampires have difficulty controlling their thirst. It's perfectly understandable. We'll be even more careful than we were before," I thought of my father, of my ex-husband, of how angry they got whenever I did something that upset them.

I finally found my voice. I was getting curious "So you're not cross, or anything?"

"Esme, I could never be angry with you," Carlisle said softly. He seemed to hesitate. His mouth opened and closed a few times. "Esme. Don't you see?"

"See what?"

"I love you, Esme," I stared at him, dumbfounded "When I found you again, I knew that I loved you. I never forgot about you," On the outside I stared at his beautiful face. Inside of me, fireworks went off. Carlisle loved me! Me! Esme Platt! I realised that I hadn't said anything.

"I love you too, Carlisle," I murmured, pressing my lips to his.

We were married a few months later, in a ceremony in a tiny church around the corner from our new apartment, where we had had to move to after what I had done. Edward must have found the atmosphere very uncomfortable, which may have been one of the reasons that he left. I missed him so much when he was gone. Not in the way that I would have missed Carlisle, but I grew to love him as a son. It felt to me like I was his mother now. One night when Carlisle was working late I was musing on this as Edward passed through the room. He turned to me and said "I think of you as my mother too,"

When Carlisle bought Rosalie into the family I was glad, because although I loved the boys, I was glad of female company to shop with. I was never happier than when our family was all together, especially as it grew, but I always worried about Edward. He was always slightly on the edge, always the odd one out. I worried for him. And then he found Bella.

I remember the first time I heard about Bella Swan. Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper and Alice came home and said that Edward had left for Alaska. Alice explained to us what she had seen, and while the others lounged on the sofas and complained, Alice and I went upstairs to call Tanya.

When Edward saved Bella from being crushed by the van, I was proud. I didn't voice this, though. Rosalie was so angry, and I couldn't stand fighting with her. I sat at the bottom of the stairs, again with Alice, as Rosalie screamed at Edward

"How could you be so stupid? We'll be exposed! All because you a have a crush on some stupid human girl who blushes when you look at her, falls over a lot and didn't look before she crossed the road! News flash Edward! All human girls do that! We can move, and you'll find another one! We have to move! She is going to get suspicious!"

"She's not suspicious," he muttered. He was never quiet for this long when arguing with Rose. He was always roaring back, just as loud as she was.

"Oh yes, and you know this, don't you? Mr. We-Don't-Need-To-Worry-I-Can-Hear-Her-Thoughts. She's probably thinking really dirty things about the two of you, isn't she?"

"I can't hear her thoughts, actually," When he said that the whole room stopped. Rosalie's arms froze in mid gesture, Emmett and Jasper turned from where they'd been looking out of the window, leaving Rose to blow off stem, Carlisle coming through the door.

"That's it! We have to leave now!" Rosalie sounded like a banshee.

"She's right Edward," Emmett seconded her.

"Why? She promised not to tell anybody,"

"And you believed her?"

The fight went on all night, with Rosalie breaking several pieces of furniture in her rage. Edward stood there the whole time, his head hung, taking her anger, never retaliating.

A couple of weeks later, after we had decided to stay, everyone had gone off to hunt, except for Edward and I, who, in his guilt, had stayed to help me install the furniture I had bought to replace the pieces Rosalie had destroyed.

We worked in a comfortable silence until Edward broke it, "Esme," he said "What does love feel like?"

I answered his question with another question "How do you feel about Bella?"

"I would move the world for her, just to be with her, to protect her, to keep her safe, just for another second. I would stay with her forever if I could. She never stops amazing me," He said, all in one breath.

"Edward. That's love,"

And as I watch them now, with Carlisle's arms wrapped around my waist, sitting at the piano, Edward and Bella, and I know that Edward has found his true love, as I have found mine.

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What did you think? Good? Bad? Cheesy? I had to leave it at that point of Twilight because I couldn't stand the end of Breaking Dawn. It was too cliche.

Please check out my new story, and review this one.

xxxx


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